


i will give you every part of me

by bageldiscourse



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Getting Together, Kid Fic, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 01:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17653559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bageldiscourse/pseuds/bageldiscourse
Summary: Brady, shirtless with a baby in his lap—he repeats what’s in front of him over and over in his head enough times for it to make sense and comes up empty, because where thefuckwould Brady have gotten a baby overnight without telling either of them.(She’s the cutest thing in the world, even if a bit of a surprise; she has bright blue eyes and an even bluer dress on. Later later he’ll find out more about her, like that her middle name is Paige and she said her first word—“Bye bye!”—only a few weeks ago. Her favorite book, which they read to her at least a hundred times in the first week alone, is If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. For now, though, all he knows is that she looks so little in Brady’s lap, and his stomach is doing gymnastics as he looks at the two of them.)





	i will give you every part of me

**Author's Note:**

> this wouldn't be possible without shannon and ellie's support when i got stuck Many, many times. i love u both dearly!
> 
> also for some reason the first scene of this fic is in one POV and then i decided to just fuckin? completely 180 and use a different POV for the entire rest of the fic? so just uh pretend it works because i don't want to go back and change it! thanks and enjoy.
> 
> title is from take me dancing by the maine

Winter has a nuanced way of digging up your biggest fears when you least expect it and, even worse, are least ready. It catches you at your most vulnerable; the temperature drops, and all you can do is cling to the layers of warmth still present and try not to slip under too bad.

Jimmy wakes up on the first day of the Rangers’ bye week slowly and to the smell of coffee and pancakes. The latter of the two scents is the more surprising, considering neither Brady nor Kevin have even attempted to lift a pot or pan since the day they moved in together—and even before that, too, if he’s being honest with himself.

So he throws on a worn Rangers shirt and the clean-enough pair of sweatpants lying on his bedroom floor, and goes out to the kitchen to see what’s going on. When he walks into the room, he finds a few things: an untouched mug of coffee on the table, presumably Jimmy’s; Kevin busying himself with something on his phone and sitting in front of a plate of pancakes; Brady sitting across from him, shirtless with an upset baby in his lap.

 _Brady, shirtless with a baby in his lap_ —he repeats what’s in front of him over and over in his head enough times for it to make sense and comes up empty, because where the _fuck_ would Brady have gotten a baby overnight without telling either of them.

(She’s the cutest thing in the world, even if a bit of a surprise; she has bright blue eyes and an even bluer dress on. Later later he’ll find out more about her, like that her middle name is Paige and she said her first word—“Bye bye!”—only a few weeks ago. Her favorite book, which they read to her at least a hundred times in the first week alone, is _If You Give a Mouse a Cookie_. For now, though, all he knows is that she looks so little in Brady’s lap, and his stomach is doing gymnastics as he looks at the two of them.)

Jimmy doesn’t realize how long he’s been standing in the doorway just _staring_ until Brady’s overly cheery “Good morning” snaps him out of his daze.

“Everything okay?” Jimmy asks, a rhetorical question if there ever was one—he doesn’t need to dig any deeper to see that there’s a pretty clear conflict at hand. He starts to walk toward the stove, because he sees pancakes and he’s not about to _not_ eat some; he gets a plate out of the cupboard and piles a few onto it, and Brady slides him the mug of coffee as he sits down in between him and Kevin. Cautiously he takes a bite, and they’re _good_. Really good. They’re banana-chocolate chip, and Jimmy thinks he even tastes cinnamon laced into the batter, and he has absolutely no idea what the fuck’s going on right now. “Who made these?”

“My ex,” Brady says, simple as anything. The kid’s stopped crying, mostly, small half-sob hiccups that mean she’s tired herself out more than anything else.

And—okay, there’s a lot of things Jimmy wants to know about that. Like. Brady has a brother, and maybe that’s his kid Brady’s trying to get to eat a cup of applesauce. Maybe he’s babysitting for a friend, or a teammate, or maybe—

Well. Jimmy takes a thoughtful bite of pancake as he thinks of how to address the elephant in the room; after a minute he settles on, “So who’s this?” and has to hope his voice comes out sufficiently neutral.

“Her name’s Jamie,” Brady offers. He hasn’t looked up from the applesauce cup in his hand.

“And she—she’s yours?” Jimmy says, because he can’t help himself.

Brady’s face twists into something unreadable, before his reply comes. “She is,” he says, and that’s that, for now.

So. “Okay.” Except that isn’t that, because there’s a million more questions at the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill over at any moment the next time he opens his mouth, and he cannot stop looking at the little bundle of joy in their kitchen sticking her pointer finger in the cup of applesauce in front of her, and it’s Brady’s kid, but—well. It’s all of theirs, now, if you want to get technical about things. _What’s mine is yours_ , and all that.

Roomie stuff, you know.

“I’m already her favorite,” Kevin says, his mouth half full, his grin lopsided.

“No way,” Jimmy says, because there’s no way her favorite of the three of them would be anyone but himself. (Maybe second favorite, after Brady, when he thinks about it further.) “Here, hand her to me.”

Brady does, and Jimmy sits her on his lap, facing him. “Hi there,” he says, in his gentlest voice.

She blinks, and doesn’t say anything. That’s okay, because Jimmy doubts he would’ve been able to understand it anyway.

Dealing with kids is fundamentally not unlike learning a new hockey play, in that it takes patience and great care—one wrong move could throw everything off. However, Jimmy quickly learns that, while unfamiliar, a hockey play doesn’t pose the threat of puking all over your favorite shirt and then immediately bawling its eyes out.

“Holy shit,” Brady says, staring at Jimmy’s shirt. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jimmy says, “I get that reaction a lot,” and Kevin can’t help but laugh as he walks over to take Jamie from him and try to calm her down.

Jimmy takes off his shirt for Brady to bring it down to the laundry room, and when Brady comes back with a new shirt for Jimmy, he suggests they all watch a movie to get their minds off things.

Jamie falls asleep in Brady’s lap halfway through _Miracle_ , and the three of them order takeout for dinner after Brady puts her properly to sleep in his bed.

 

The next morning, Kevin suggests they go grocery shopping, after opening the fridge and finding three plain bagels, four half-empty takeout containers, and two Gatorade bottles. “We’ve gotta get, like. Applesauce and all that shit. For the baby.”

He has a point, Brady acknowledges, so he walks over to the next room where Jamie is sitting in front of the TV and watching cartoons.

“Come on, up we go,” Brady says, as he picks her up. He sets her down on the kitchen counter, and before he can ask Kevin to go get her coat from the front hall, he’s already handing it to him, along with her sneakers and scarf.

Brady can’t help but grin. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Kevin says. He’s smiling, and Brady’s stomach is doing gymnastics, so he looks down to where he’s trying to bundle up his restless toddler and continues buttoning up her coat. He ends up abandoning the scarf entirely, though, as she refuses to keep it on for more than ten seconds at a time; he figures the fact that she’s willing to keep her hood up is compensation enough.

Jimmy walks into the room as Brady’s tying her shoes—or trying to, anyway, if she could just _stand still_ —and he walks over and stands behind Brady. “Jamie, hey,” he says gently. “Show me your teeth.”

She stands still with her mouth proudly open wide long enough for Brady to finish tying her shoes, and after Brady picks her up, he turns around to ask, “How’d you know that would work?”

Jimmy only shrugs. “Didn’t, but it works on my cousins, so I figured it was worth a try.”

“You’re the _best_ , oh my God, do you know how long I was trying to get her to stop wiggling around and just _moving_ for no reason—”

“Yo, guys,” Kevin says, from the doorway, “we leaving anytime soon?”

“Right, right,” Brady says, laughing at himself a little. “Yeah, let’s go.”

 

Brady’s gone grocery shopping before in his life. On multiple occasions, in fact. He can mostly make his way around Target without much of an issue.

He was entirely unprepared for the experience of grocery shopping with a toddler.

It’s just—she’s always trying to grab things, even from where they’ve sat her inside the shopping cart; eventually, Brady gives her his keys to play with, watching her to make sure she doesn’t try to put them in her mouth.

Brady isn’t really sure what an eleven-month-old can and can’t eat, but before he can voice his concerns, Jimmy’s pulling a sheet of paper with a list of random fruits and veggies out of his pocket. When he notices Brady looking at it he says, “What? I looked it up.”

From Jimmy, Brady learns that babies Jamie’s age are comfortable eating most simple solid foods, like cereal and sandwiches and mac and cheese and cut fruits and veggies. They also buy yogurt and pasta and more applesauce, and when they leave the store Brady feels marginally better about his parenting abilities.

On the way home, they pass an IKEA, which reminds Brady he hasn’t set up a crib for her yet, which they should do before the bye week is over or they’ll never get to it.

When they find the aisle of baby furniture, there’s only a few basic cribs to choose from, but Kevin still insists on letting her sit in each one to see which they should buy. In the end, they go with the first one they saw, but Brady appreciates the effort anyway.

At home, Brady experiments with what lunch he thinks Jamie would like while Kevin and Jimmy set up Jamie’s crib together; first he tries making her a small bowl of pasta, but she dumps it all onto the floor, so he makes her a grilled cheese sandwich and cuts it into bite-size pieces. She eats that happily, insisting on feeding herself, too.

Brady gives her a bath after lunch, and Kevin and Jimmy are finished by the time they are. They’ve put the crib in the corner of the guest bedroom, and Brady notices there’s a stuffed giraffe in it, and he’s not sure whose it is, but it’s a nice addition. Jamie seems to love it, as she starts to play with it immediately when Brady puts her in the crib.

For a minute, the three of them sit there and just watch her, and it’s—kind of surreal, that Brady’s here. If you asked him a week ago if he could take care of a kid, he would’ve laughed and said absolutely not, but he’s not doing too bad right now. Sure, it’s only been a few days, but those few days have been the most important of his life.

He can feel himself getting emotional, so he offers to put a basketball game on and make lunch for the three of them, and it’s an adequate distraction in that it gets him out of his own head

 

Having a baby around the house is—an adjustment, to put it kindly. It’s fucking _weird_ , is what he would bluntly call it; as much as he loves the kid already, Brady is barely used to being a mostly-independent adult, and now he’s responsible for another human being who can’t so much as feed itself.

It’s hard for Brady to remember a time when the three of them didn’t know the ins and outs of each other, from spending so much time together and eventually to living together. Brady doesn’t remember _not_ knowing that Kevin is a handsy, cuddly drunk, or that Jimmy only drinks blue flavored Gatorade, or that they both hate horror movies but will always indulge Brady and watch them with him.

It’s not that he was expecting to lose all of that after Jamie’s sudden arrival, but he certainly never expected it to be this _easy_ , for the three of them to co-parent.

Kevin puts out a swear jar to get them to gradually stop cursing, and buys her the smallest Air Jordans any of them have ever seen in their lives, _for the aesthetic_ ; Jimmy plays peekaboo with her before bed every night. The three of them rotate bathing her and changing her diaper, and after a few days of practice it becomes a normal routine.

It’s still not easy, by normal standards—running on an eleven-month-old’s schedule isn’t Brady’s favorite thing in the world, and sometimes he wants to throw tantrums along with her, to be honest—but it’s all worth it in the end every time he catches Jamie smiling up at Jimmy or Kevin like they hung the stars in the sky, or watching her get her dinner all over her shirt and face because she insists on feeding herself. It’s not easy, but it’s _nice_. Brady lasts three days of blissful ignorance of the outside world and the Rangers PR department before he gets a call that he in good conscience shouldn’t avoid answering.

“I should—take this,” Brady says, and Jimmy nods and scoops her up, follows Kevin out of the room so Brady has privacy while he sorts out what will undoubtedly be a media shitstorm.

After he picks up the phone, Jimmy and Kevin can’t hear any of the conversation, but they focus their attention to Jamie nonetheless. She’s undeniably sleepy, even as she tries to force her eyes to stay open, and Jimmy rocks her back and forth in his arms and she clings to the sleeve of his sweater and slowly dozes off.

Brady walks into the room just as Jamie’s fallen all the way asleep on Jimmy’s chest, and he looks down at her almost wistfully. “They told me to tweet something out, and then they’ll figure the rest out later, I guess.”

“We should go out to dinner,” Kevin says, decisive. “Get your mind off things.”

“I don’t know—” Brady says, trying to protest, but he stops himself before he has a chance to. Dinner sounds nice, actually. “Sure, okay.”

“Are we bringing her?” Jimmy asks.

“Obviously we can’t just leave her here,” Kevin says, very matter-of-factly.

“No, I mean—like, are people gonna notice?” Jimmy says. “Are you ready for all  that?”

“Now or never, I guess,” Brady says, shrugging as if he could feasibly be even the slightest bit casual about this. He sits on the couch in between Kevin and Jimmy and says, “You guys wanna help me pick out a picture to post of her?”

It’s hardly a question, more of a request, an unspoken _I can’t do this alone_ ; Jimmy takes his phone and scrolls through his camera roll before stopping on a picture Brady doesn’t remember taking. “This one,” Jimmy says, and hands Brady back his phone. It’s a close-up shot of Jamie, seated on Kevin’s hip and smiling, bright and pleased and showing off her new two bottom teeth. If Brady crops it a little, you can’t _really_ tell it’s Kevin holding her—that’s an entirely different can of worms Brady would rather not open right this instant, if given the choice—so it’ll do just fine.

They sit there for awhile after it’s posted, Brady tossing his phone onto the coffee table and then closing his eyes, letting the hum of the heater and the light snores from Jamie fill the silence of the room.

Maybe an hour passes before Jamie wakes up again, blinking her wide eyes slowly until she decides she’s sufficiently awake, at which point she pulls on Jimmy’s hair until he gives her attention. “Someone’s ready to go,” Jimmy observes, grimacing through the last of that sentence when Jamie starts to pull harder. She’s got quite the grip.

Jimmy hands her over, and Brady walks into the kitchen with her, stands her on the counter and goes through the familiar motions of bundling her up for the bitter New England cold.

And as Kevin picks Jamie up from the counter and tosses Jimmy his keys in one swift motion as they head out the door, even if only for that one quiet, perfect moment, Brady feels like he could get used to the feeling of everything settling into place.

 

(Dinner is nice, due largely in part to Jamie not crying the entire time, and the fact that he doesn’t get any tricky questions from fans about why he suddenly has a baby.

At home, Kevin breaks out a pint of ice cream, and they share it on the couch once they put Jamie down for the night; Brady falls asleep on Kevin’s shoulder, and the next morning Jimmy chirps him liberally for it.

All things considered, it’s a perfect night.)

  


For the next few weeks, Kevin is out with an injury, which on the bright side eliminates the need for Brady to find a babysitter. When Brady is out of town for roadies, Kevin sends him and Jimmy pictures of Jamie every time something notable happens.

(That, for Kevin, is essentially every time her expression changes. Brady is just glad he doesn’t have to nag Kevin for updates on her, because he gets so many as is.)

The day after they come back from a California road trip is the team’s family skate, and although they haven’t formally told the team about the kid, Brady thinks it could be a nice experience.

So they buy her some skates and a really tiny jersey with Brady’s name and number on the back, and pack a bag with snacks, and Brady has to convince himself this is a good idea that night. Like, besides the serious implications it has for the three of them to come to family skate _together_ with their _daughter_ , there’s always the possibility that Jamie doesn’t like being on the ice, or that she gets bored, or gets _hurt_ —

Okay, so maybe he’s overreacting a little. In any case, he wakes up early the next morning because he’s nervous, and even feeding Jamie her breakfast doesn’t really calm his nerves all that much.

Kevin and Jimmy wake up around the same time a little later, and Brady feels a little more like a human and less like a ball of anxiety once they’ve picked up coffee on their way to the rink. Once they get to the locker room, most of the guys are on the ice already, and the rest are preoccupied with conversations with their families, so it’s easy for the three of them to set Jamie down in one of their stalls and put her skates on without being hit with questions.

Jimmy’s the one who carries her onto the ice, and Brady can see her frowning when the chill of the rink hits her cheeks, but it disappears quickly when she realizes she can touch the ice because she’s wearing gloves. After she’s inspected the surface of the ice sufficiently, she makes grabby hands at Kevin until he picks her up, and he puts her on his shoulders as he skates around the length of the rink. Brady’s all about living in the moment and everything, but he also couldn’t _not_ take a video of Jamie giggling uncontrollably and planting her hands in his hair as Kevin looks equally as happy. Once Kevin comes back around to where Brady and Jimmy are standing, he hands her off to Brady and offers to take a picture of the two of them. Brady doesn’t even have to ask her to smile in it, because she’s still riding the high of the lap around the rink with Kevin, and he makes the picture his lockscreen.

In the locker room afterward, they wait for everyone to clear out before taking Jamie’s skates off. Jimmy opens a pack of fruit snacks for her to keep her happy, and Brady’s gotten her skates off and is about to put her sneakers on when she gets up from where she’s sitting in Kevin’s stall. Brady’s about to pick her up, but then he notices what she’s doing: she wants the gummy bears in Jimmy’s hand, and she’s slowly taking her first few steps to get to where he’s sitting with them. She takes step number one, two, three—and then she’s reaching up to try to grab the bag of gummy bears. Brady and Kevin are just _looking_ at her, eyes wide and mouths slightly open, resembling a cartoon reaction, because this is a _big deal_. Jimmy doesn’t look down at her until he feels her hand on his, and then he quickly develops the same reaction. “Did she—” he says.

“Hell yeah she did,” Kevin says, scooping her up and smothering her with kisses, much to her delight. “Still no candy for you, miss Jamie.”

And Brady doesn’t even bother trying to stop himself from getting emotional, because he’s never been this proud in his _life_ , and it’s just—a lot. That’s his kid, and she’s walking, and she’s absolutely perfect.

 

Brady’s jolted awake at an ungodly hour of the morning a few days after the season ends to the spectacularly unpleasant sound of Jamie’s crying.

He huffs a groan as he sits up in bed, trying to will himself fully awake so he can go over to her room and see what’s wrong. He checks the time on his phone to see that Jamie lasted until five in the morning, after he put her down at midnight after their game. He’s had nights where she slept worse than this, at least, but the sleep he’s losing before morning skate still feels like it’s teasing him.

By the time he’s pulled on a pair of sweatpants and gotten out of bed, Jamie’s crying has subsided, which is—a little surprising, so Brady figures he should check on her anyway.

When he walks toward Jamie’s room, the door’s open, so he takes a careful, quiet step through it and finds Kevin holding Jamie on his hip and facing the window, speaking sotto voce to her as they watch the sun break the horizon.

Brady entertains the idea of taking a picture, so he can keep this specific moment in his back pocket, this specific feeling of something like love blooming in the tightest corners of his chest. Before he can convince himself of any of the number of reasons he shouldn’t, he’s already pulled his phone out and quietly snapped the photo.

As he pockets his phone, Kevin turns around and gently puts her back in her crib. He doesn’t notice Brady at all, in fact, until he turns around to leave. “Hey,” he says, his voice a little rough from disuse but nonetheless soft. “She fell back asleep pretty easy, but I guess the damage was already done, huh?”

“Yeah,” Brady says. “I—thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” Kevin shrugs. “I was gonna wake up early anyway.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Brady says, because he never wants to see a day where Kevin _doesn’t_ wake up last of the three of them, slowly and soft around the edges and complaining about the purpose of human existence at such an early hour of the morning.

“No?” Kevin says, following Brady out of the room and down the stairs.

“Definitely not,” Brady says, laughing a little despite himself. “But—seriously. I didn’t mean just this morning.”

“Oh,” Kevin says, for lack of a better response.

“You guys make me feel like I can actually be a good dad, and that’s—I mean, I never pictured myself here, but it’s a lot easier with your help,” Brady says, and he tries not to think about how much he really means it. “I couldn’t have done all this without you and Jimmy.”

“Sure you could,” Kevin insists, and his voice comes out a little shaky, or maybe Brady’s just imagining that.

“Maybe,” Brady says, and he stops at the last step, “but I wouldn’t want to.”

And—God, he really hopes he can’t be reading this wrong, but he leans in, a little, his eyes falling shut; he feels more so than hears Kevin’s breath skip a beat and start to come irregularly. Their noses are brushing against one another’s and if he leans in any further their lips would be, too, but he wants to give Kevin the opportunity to back out first.

Kevin, who’s standing on ground level so Brady feels taller than him, who has the slightest hint of a smile just from looking at Brady. Kevin, who’s helped raise Brady’s child for the past three months without hesitation during any point, during the good or the bad—who Brady didn’t mean to fall head-over-heels for, but.

Quietly Kevin says, “Are you sure about this?”

Brady shakes his head no, although Kevin probably can’t see, and leans down and kisses him, like he’s wanted to for so many months now.

The kiss is every bit as perfect as Brady would have imagined, all the way from his arm looped around Kevin’s neck and hand in his hair to Kevin’s hands at his waist rubbing gentle circles into his hips. It’s addictive, almost, the sound Kevin makes when Brady’s hand tightens in his hair and he deepens the kiss a little further.

“I’m terrified,” Brady breathes out, a proper answer to his question; just the admission alone helps his hands shake less obviously.

“Yeah,” Kevin nods, “yeah, me too,” he says, but he’s also looking at Brady like he’s the best thing in the world. So, there’s that.

“We should—get Jimmy,” Brady says, because in every scenario he let himself picture, it’s always the three of them.

“We should let him sleep for now, I think,” Kevin says. “Are you hungry?”

Brady pulls him down into one more short kiss, and another, until he’s nearly lost in the feeling of it. “Yes,” he says, entirely belatedly.

“Good, because I make a mean toaster waffle,” Kevin says, and Brady laughs so hard he has to sit down to catch his breath.

 

Jimmy wakes up by the time they’re done feeding Jamie her breakfast, walking into the room bleary-eyed, his hair mussed and still wearing yesterday’s t-shirt. “I’m the last one up?” he remarks when he looks up from his phone and opens the fridge. “Must be opposite day.”

“Shut up,” Kevin says. “I could wake up early if I wanted to. I just _choose_ not to.”

“Really, that’s the story you’re going with?” Jimmy asks, as he goes over to the toaster to make a bagel for himself.

Brady’s still jittering with nervous energy when Kevin gets up, and Brady wants to ask Kevin what he’s doing, but the words catch in his throat when Kevin crowds Jimmy up against the counter gently, and Brady can just barely hear him say, “You trust me, right?”

“Always,” Jimmy says immediately, and then Kevin kisses him.

From where Brady’s sitting he can see when Jimmy starts kissing back, and nothing has ever looked more right than the way their mouths move together like magnets, the kiss staying slow and almost sweet for awhile. When they pull away, Jimmy still looks a little confused, and he has to throw away his bagel and toast another, but it’s all worth it for the way they both can’t stop smiling.

“So, um, that was . . .” Jimmy says, as he’s spreading cream cheese onto his bagel.

“Okay?” Kevin asks, as if the answer would be anything but yes, considering the way Jimmy kissed back.

“Yeah, more than okay,” Jimmy says quickly. “I just—wasn’t expecting it, I guess?”

“Right,” Brady says, trying to buy himself time to figure out how he’s going to say this. It has to be, you know, chill. He’s not trying to overwhelm Jimmy right now. Instead of maintaining any semblance of chill, he blurts, “I kissed Haysie this morning because I like him. And—now I want to kiss you, too.”

Jimmy is silent for a minute, and Brady’s afraid he’s fucked everything up just because he doesn’t think before he speaks. But then Jimmy says, “Because you like me?”

Brady nods, and then Jimmy says, “So it’s—both of us, then?”

“I mean, yeah,” Brady says, bites his bottom lip as he waits for Jimmy’s response.

“And you—?” Jimmy asks, turning to Kevin.

“ _Yes_ ,” Kevin says, and he sounds so sure, Brady wants to feel optimistic about this.

Jimmy lets himself smile, but it’s the slightest bit nervous. “Yeah, me too,” he says. “I think it was because of—uh, you know. The kid?”

Brady looks over at her, then. “Haysie, do you maybe wanna put on Mickey Mouse for her? In the other room?”

Kevin must get the idea, because he walks over to her, picks her up, and disappears into the living room. A few seconds later Brady hears the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse theme song playing quietly, and that’s when he moves over and settles in Jimmy’s lap. He’s quiet when he asks, “Are you sure?” and in lieu of an answer, Jimmy pulls him closer and kisses him.

Before long, Brady’s hands are in Jimmy’s hair and he’s sighing into the kiss, and his life is officially the greatest.

**Author's Note:**

> don't forget to like and subscribe xoxo


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